


i can feel you slipping away (like the sunlight at the end of the day)

by CasualMaraudering



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (it's implied. but he is), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aromantic Asexual Regulus Black, Brothers, Child Abuse, First War with Voldemort, Gay Sirius Black, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Not Really Character Death, Parenthood, Protective Sirius Black, Regulus Black Needs a Hug, Regulus and Sirius Being Brothers, Teenage Parents, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 08:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasualMaraudering/pseuds/CasualMaraudering
Summary: How Regulus lost Sirius, escaped his family, ended up with two Siriuses, and fled London./Or: a tale of two brothers, and the beginnings of a new family. A series to be continued.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 51
Kudos: 238
Collections: I Love This / Made me emotional, Regulus Black Fest 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for the RAB fest! i ended up loving the prompt i had so much that this might eventually turn into a full on series with multiple works in them sfjdsfk
> 
> hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! <3  
> title from Brother by Ben Haenow

The first time he met his brother, Sirius had been five-and-a-half. Regulus had just been born a couple hours prior, on a warm, pleasant day, at the very beginning of the summer season.

That, of course, isn’t something Regulus recalls at all. But he’s been told, over and over, so many stories about his early childhood. Andromeda would often think back to those days, with a soft look to her eye, and a smile so rarely seen at family events. Alphard, too, would talk about it plenty. The times when Regulus and Sirius had been young children were his favourite. _‘A cute little lad you were,’_ he’d say, ruffling Regulus’s hair with his rough, old hands. The only one in the family to do that, beside Sirius. Him and Alphard were rather alike, in so many ways. _‘Always stuck to Sirius, too. You were always hanging right off his sleeve.’_

Sirius would tell stories sometimes as well. But he never said anything important; he’s always had a way of talking around things he wasn’t comfortable speaking about; not quite lying - just skilfully omitting the truth. He’d talk of _Regulus_ , but never really include _himself_. Always choosing to hide anything that might show his feelings. Though, that’s likely just a trait that comes with being a Black.

The sunny day of Regulus’s birth, Sirius spent in the nursery, observing. He watched how Regulus kicked his little legs, yawned, or cried until a nanny came to care for him. He stared in childlike wonder at everything and anything Regulus did; all day long, until he had been scolded for staying up, and was rushed to bed.

And that would repeat, day after day after day. Sirius had to attend meals with their family, had lessons and tutors, French and piano and history, so many family functions even at _five years old._ But, any free moment he had, he would spend with Regulus. He’d ask if he could hold him, very carefully, and sat as still and perfect as possible while making sure his brother slept undisturbed in his arms. He started playing in the nursery instead of his own bedroom, carefully narrating stories of his wooden wizards to little Regulus, always frowning whenever he was unable to pronounce a word or lost an 'r’. When the summer passed and the nights grew colder, Sirius would tuck his brother’s blanket under his tiny feet, just so he wouldn’t kick it off in the middle of the night.

And he continued to be just as attentive. _The best brother in the whole world,_ he would proudly say at six, seven, eight years old. He always let Regulus play with his favourite toys, read him books, stole his favourite candy from the kitchen table, even when Mother clearly said they weren’t allowed any. Whenever a storm would come - the kind with lightning, and wind so loud and wailing so hard that Regulus always mistook it for some kind of creatures right below his bedroom window - Sirius would creep into Regulus’s room, slip into his bed, and hold him as the boy would hiccup into his nightshirt. And he’d take a punishment for it the next day, too - though that, Regulus had no idea about. Not quite yet.

The first memories of Sirius that Regulus has - actual, _real_ memories, something more than a spoken tale - start when he’s four years old. Sirius - nine, and in Regulus’s opinion, the best person in the whole wide world - had been taking him up to the attic to watch the stars at night. So late past their bedtimes that Mother would scream herself sore if she knew, but Sirius never cared (or, at least, never acted like he did). He’d drag Regulus up the narrow, tall stairs, always holding his hand and pulling him up whenever the need arose ( _‘Merlin, your tiny legs, Reggie, how do you even get anywhere like this?’_ he’d always laugh). Then he’d boost him up to sit at the tallest windowsill in the attic, and teach him all about the night sky. All the stars, constellations; the moon, and sometimes comets and planets, if they happened to be visible.

_“There, that’s me! The brightest one in the whole entire sky! So like, the best star of all of them. The whole cluster - those, see? All of these make up Canis Major.”_

_“Dog sta's?”_

_“Mhm! It means the Big Dog, and Sirius - that's me, obviously - is the Dog Star. And look! There- no, to the left- that’s_ not _left, there, a little higher- it’s you! Right in the Leo constellation. I’m the dog, and you’re the lion!”_

It was their thing, always. Sneaking out of bed, past their bedtimes, crawling up the stairs to the old attic, full of boxes and antique vases and far too many cobwebs, and then staring at the sky, sometimes until there was no more stars to look at.

*

His whole life, Regulus had been told he’s a particularly bright child. Always exceeding all expectations, leaving tutors in awe. He’d go far in life, they all said.

And knowledge, _learning,_ had always fascinated him. Ever since he learned how to read (with Sirius’s help, of course), he begun making his way through all the books in the Black library. The sight of it was like true magic to his young mind - so many books, hundreds, if not _thousands,_ all for him to read. Learning fascinated him. He’d been a bright young boy, skilled in so many ways, even if only a few years old at the time.

At five, he began learning his family. But not like the classes he had with tutors - nothing about genetics, or the family tree, or manners or special spells, no. He started seeing things that no one spoke of out loud.

It started with small signs, seemingly meaningless ones. Things Regulus thought nothing of until he had the full picture. The way Mother’s sharp eyes would go over Sirius when he’d come back home after ‘taking a walk’ (while Regulus knew he was out playing with Muggle boys from their neighbourhood). The tone of her voice when she requested him to come to Father’s office with her for ‘a conversation’. And then how Sirius would miss dinner that day, while Mother and Father talked over the table in hushed voices, throwing words Regulus had been too young to know the meaning of.

Though that meant very little for Regulus, at least at the time. With nothing to compare it to, his family had been the standard of normality, and he accepted it as such. For the time being, all he was was a small boy, completely unaware of the cruelty and abnormality of his home; all he cared for were his favourite toys, his Nanny, and his brother.

His brother, who would be turning eleven that very year. Who got his Hogwarts letter in early August, bouncing into Regulus’s bedroom and showing it off all day long, happier than Regulus had ever seen him. Who, come September, would be leaving Regulus all alone.

And Regulus - in his entire five year old life - had never been separated from his brother for more than two weeks at most. It’s always been them two, always been Sirius _and_ Regulus, never any different. Of course, he'd been aware Sirius would go to Hogwarts, he _knew,_ but it came _so_ _soon._ Regulus himself wouldn’t be in school until Sirius would be in 7th year, and that meant just one year of being in school together, and then Sirius would be _an adult,_ leaving to do whatever adults do, and then Regulus would be alone _for good._

After Sirius's letter came, Regulus spent two weeks in a grumpy and fussy tantrum, stomping around and throwing toys, wishing Hogwarts would stop existing, or his brother would decide not to go, but Sirius, annoyingly, kept being excited and happy. _Happy to leave._

He was mad at Sirius, of course - tried to ignore him, avoid him, throw plushies at him. Sirius called him a little brat, then, and Regulus had yelled at him that he’s _not_ little and that _Sirius_ is a brat, and went to stomp away into his bedroom to angrily kick down a tower of blocks that he and Sirius built together three or so weeks before.

And then it was time for Nanny to take Sirius to Diagon Alley; and Mother allowed Regulus to go too. While still in the middle of his days-long temper tantrum, Regulus had been in awe; he had never been allowed to go there before (despite numerous protests, everyone claimed he was _too young_ , which had always been a statement Regulus hated). As soon as they entered the street, Sirius grabbed his hand and started dragging him around all the nooks and crannies, showing him the shops and displays, leaving Nanny far behind. He let Regulus pet his new owl (affectionately named Alfie, after their uncle Alphard), and although he laughed at Regulus crying when Alfie bit him on the knuckle, he convinced Nanny to let them get ice cream. And he even let Reg hold his new wand - dark and elegant, made from deep mahogany and a phoenix feather core.

Once all the school supplies had been bought and sent home, and Nanny forbade Sirius from buying any more candy, Sirius took Regulus to the Quidditch store, to look at brooms and daydream about _‘being the best Quidditch player in all of Hogwarts’ history’._

“You can come to watch all my matches!” he had said, eyes sparkling as he eyed the newest Nimbus on display.

Regulus had pouted, and grabbed Sirius’s sleeve, his eyes falling to the floor.

“I dun' wan’ you to go,” he said, voice small and already quivering with tears.

“I’ll write to you, every other day. Every day even, if you want.”

“N-no. You’ll hav’ new f'ends.”

Sirius had crouched down to his eye level then, and ruffled Regulus’s hair, grinning at him.

“I won’t. You’re my brother, Reggie. You come first, even if I have a _million_ new friends.”

When Sirius was leaving for the train that September, Regulus had been hiccuping into Nanny’s leg, watching him leave.

_“I’ll write to you right after sorting, I promise. You can ask Nanny to help you write back.”_

Being alone at Grimmauld was different. Empty, silent. He’d never quite realised just how awful the house could become back when Sirius had been there to distract him. And he never really knew just how harsh their family really is back then.

Sirius had got himself sorted into Gryffindor, befriended the Potter boy ( _‘blood traitors’_ is what Mother called the Potters, whenever the name was brought up in conversation). He would write, saying that Mother and Father have no right being upset, that his friends are good people, that he's met half-bloods and muggleborns and they were all fun to be around. ' _They're just stupid, our parents,_ Sirius wrote once, in a letter Regulus read himself because Nanny didn't want to read it out loud to him. It was difficult to do so at the time, but he'd eventually got it all. _'the whole blood thing is so pointless. Lupin's mum is a Muggle and she seems so nice! He has so many cool Muggle things-'_

With that, Regulus began to notice whenever Mother and Father talked about Sirius during dinner. They’d speak harshly, with hate, use so many words Regulus didn’t understand just yet.

_'An embarrassment to the family, that one. A Gryffindor!'_

_'He's friends with Mudbloods! He'll turn out just like Alphard, a blood traitor.'_

_'I always knew he'd be just a mistake. Ever since he were born there was something wrong.'_

When Sirius came home for Yule, things had obviously shifted. Their parents stop hiding all the punishments Sirius was receiving.

While, before, he’d be asked to step into Father’s office, now Mother had no second thoughts about punishing Sirius right in front of Regulus. She’d yank his hair, which kept getting longer and longer every year ( _‘honestly Reg, it’s in style!’),_ slap him across the face, even with all the heavy, bulky family rings she always wore, which would draw blood from Sirius’s cheek every time. She’d grab him by the shirt and push him against walls if she was especially angry. Most days, Sirius was forbidden from being at dinner, and was told to stay in his bedroom until the next morning.

And Sirius, of course, kept acting as if things were okay. As if their Mother hurting him and calling him names didn’t affect him, or as if Regulus wasn’t a witness to it all. He’d put on a smile, ruffle Regulus’s hair, and tell him that he’s had Quidditch practice that left him way more injured.

After Sirius came back home for the summer, right before his sixth year, there was a new thing, a new game changer. Yet another thing their parents would point out in hateful conversations, after they found out, later that same year.

None of his school friends were allowed to visit, of course, with most of them being a different blood status. And Sirius was rarely allowed to visit anyone as well - though he would occasionally sneak out, as far as Regulus knew. Every now and again, he’d meet with them in town; sometimes taking Regulus with him, too. Sirius’s friends seemed a little intimidating to him at the time, but Regulus felt pride swell in his chest when Sirius let him hang out with all of them, even if he was much younger.

One evening in August, their Mother - outraged that Sirius hadn’t returned home, despite it being way past dinnertime, sent Regulus to bring him home right away - and to tell him he’s in trouble, of course.

“I presume you know where he is,” she had sneered. Regulus had found that, the older he grew, her voice became increasingly more and more annoying. _Screeches worse than a Banshee, our Mummy,_ Sirius had once said. Regulus couldn't agree more. “Find him and tell him he’s to be home immediately. I have matters to discuss with him.”

Regulus reckoned those ‘matters’ weren’t exactly anything good, nor anything he wished to witness. But he knew better than to argue; in that way, he differed from Sirius. His brother loved stepping out of line, being rebellious and loud and voicing his thoughts. Regulus? He lied low. He knew it’s better not to argue. Best to play the good son and have their parents think he agrees with all they say. One of them had to.

Sirius and his friends had a designated spot for their meetings - an old playground, charmed not to be seen by Muggles. And Sirius was there, just like Regulus expected him to be. Not alone, though.

He was there with a boy; one of his friends, Regulus assumed. He wasn't sure which one, though. It was far too dark to make out any facial features. Though, it was still really easy to see when Sirius leaned down and kissed the boy sat on one of the swings.

Regulus called his brother’s name, walking closer, confusion spreading on his face as he saw Sirius jumping back from the boy. He'd hurriedly said something to him, and then he was off. Within seconds, Sirius grabbed Regulus by the arm and turned to the streets, walking home at a pace far too quick for Regulus to keep up.

When they got to the first corner away from the park, Sirius stopped abruptly, making Regulus crash into his back.

“You saw?” had been all he asked.

Regulus blinked in confusion, holding his nose (which quite hurt after smashing right into the space inbetween Sirius’s shoulder blades).

“Saw what? That this boy was there? You _know_ I won’t tell Mother, I know she doesn’t like your friends.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean-… me and him, what we-…”

Sirius sighed, running his hand through his hair. Regulus raised a brow.

“You mean that you kissed? Why should Mother care? She wants you wed right after school, isn't you dating someone like... a good thing?”

Sirius looked at him with his face scrunched up, then ran a hand through his hair _again_ (by that point it was down to his shoulders; Mother and Father absolutely hated it).

“Listen. I know you… don’t know much yet- don’t make that face, it’s true. But… people-... they don’t really… find that... _normal._ I mean two boys being… y’know. _Like that._ ”

“But... why?”

“Fuck if I know, they just don’t. Especially families like ours. Mother and Father would kill me if they knew.”

Regulus nodded, even if he didn't quite understand why was that such a _controversial_ thing, apparently. Just like with Sirius’s Muggleborn friends - he wasn’t allowed to say a thing, or else Sirius would get punished.

“I won’t tell. I promise.”

Sirius smiled a bit, raising his hand to mess up Regulus’s hair.

“I know you won’t. Now c’mon, Mother will skin me alive if we’re late any more.”

They resumed walking, now at a much slower pace and in a much more comfortable silence; Sirius with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket (his most favourite possession as of lately), Regulus strolling right next to him.

“So… is he your boyfriend then?” Regulus had asked; and he hadn’t failed to notice the grin on Sirius’s face.

“Yeah. He is.”

“Which one was he? James?”

Sirius choked on a laugh. “Merlin, no! Jamie is more like… like you. Like a brother. This is Remus.”

“He’s... the smart one?”

“Yeah. Smartest of all of us, that one. You’ll get along swell when you’re finally in Hogwarts. I’m pretty sure he’s read like half the books in the library by now. ‘m sure he can give you some recommendations.”

That was the last summer Sirius had been home. He left next Yule, when their parents found out.

They kept in touch, of course. Sirius still sent letters, now telling him all about the life with the Potters, and that, once Sirius is out of school and gets some money saved up, Regulus can move out and live with him, too. Occasionally, Regulus would sneak upstairs and into the attic and look at stars again. It never felt quite as right without Sirius, though.

The next time they saw each other, it was at Hogwarts. Sirius started his last year, and Regulus his first.

He got sorted into Slytherin; Sirius ruffled his hair and called him a snake, but there was no malice behind his words. He asked how things were at home - _are they hurting you_ \- and Regulus said that not much changed ( _I know how to keep my head low, unlike you)._ He’d gotten even taller, his hair was now down past his shoulders, and he wore Muggle clothes. They fit him better than wizarding robes, Regulus thought.

That year passed smoothly and quickly, and Regulus spent a lot of time with Sirius and his friends. Sirius had been right - Regulus got along with Remus best.

He never missed the subtle affections between him and his brother. Hands lingering on shoulders, hugs that were just a bit too long, secretly holding hands below a table, quick kisses when they thought no one was looking. Sirius looked happy, truly. He thrived without their family.

Regulus only hoped that one day he would, too.

Before he knew it, Sirius had graduated. He got a flat somewhere in London ( _‘with Remus,’_ he had proudly announced at the time. _‘Took a minute to convince him, but I got him there with me in the end.’),_ and started studying something to do with Transfiguration at the Magical Unit at Oxford. He sent letters, sometimes _way_ too often _(‘being an adult is boring, Reg. Wish I could be back at Hogwarts and just run around the hallways all day long.’)_ , and made sure to meet up with Regulus during the Hogsmeade visits. Life was going like normal, if not passing a little too quickly.

And then the year Regulus had turned 14, Sirius disappeared.

No letters, no Hogsmeade visits. Not _one word_ as to where he was, or why he suddenly seemed to have left Regulus’s life completely. There was nothing.

He would only learn what happened after the winter holidays. Eight whole months after Sirius stopped writing.

He’d been asked to the Headmaster’s office one day, with no explanation other than it being an urgent matter. And, unlike Sirius, who’d been a troublemaker with enough detentions to earn himself a place in _Hogwarts: A History,_ Regulus had been a model student, likely to become a Prefect next year; he had no reason to be asked to speak with Professor Dumbledore.

Professor Slughorn had been there, and so was Professor McGonagall; along with the Headmaster, of course. They all stared at him strangely when he went to take a seat in front of the desk. Regulus couldn't quite figure out what it was that he was seeing in their faces. It wasn’t anything usual, that was for sure. He almost thought that Professor McGonagall looked _sad_.

“I’m afraid we have some unfortunate news for you, Mr Black,” was the first thing he heard, after a far too long, unnerving silence. Regulus tensed, confusion slowly setting on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Professor Slughorn and Professor McGonagall looking at one another briefly. “It’s about your brother.”

His breath hitched; he immediately stopped caring about the atmosphere in the room.

“Sirius?” he asked, almost in disbelief. The Headmaster nodded once.

“I’m aware that your parents wished for you not to keep any contact with Sirius, but-”

“We didn’t care,” Regulus said in a rush; though he wasn’t sure why. He’d always been rather defensive when it came to his brother, especially after he’d been disowned. “Sirius wrote to me, and we were meeting after he left school but-”

“I know,” the Headmaster had replied, with a hint of a smile. “Sirius always spoke of you incredibly fondly. Which is why, despite your parents’ wishes, I would like to talk with you. About your brother.”

“Do you… do you know why he stopped writing to me, the past summer? He never said why, and we haven't spoken since.”

He swore he heard Professor McGonagall draw in a sharp breath.

“Regulus… do you know what’s happening in the wizarding world right now?”

 _The war._ Of course.

For some time, Regulus had been noticing his parents’ hushed whispers over dinner, and all the unnerving guests they kept having, disappearing behind the door to Father’s office. There were talks of the Dark Lord, of cleansing the world out of people who are ‘unworthy’. There were wizards disappearing, left and right.

It came to him quickly. In what was quickly turning into war, his family stood on the wrong side. And they expected him to follow along. He didn’t want to, he’d never - even if he acted the part, he never believed in all the bullshit they did, which had more to do with Sirius's influence than he'd ever admit - but he hadn’t dared to leave the family home. Not just yet, not before Sirius would say it’d be okay to do so.

And til then, he simply decided to play his part. The perfect son and rightful heir. ' _It's useful,'_ Sirius had said once. _'They won't ever suspect anything if you keep it up. It's bullshit, but, honestly? I can't wait to see the looks on their faces when they realise.'_

“Is Sirius fighting in the war?”

The Headmaster, again, nodded. “He joined right after graduation. Your brother was a great asset to us. A fantastically skilled wizard.”

Regulus smiles absentmindedly. Despite rarely bothering to study, Sirius always had a natural-

“Wait- _was?_ Is he not fighting anymore? Wh-what happened, why?”

That time, the Headmaster hadn’t said anything. Professor McGonagall came up to Regulus, and laid a hand on the back of the chair he was sitting in, looking at him with a gentle smile, one he’d never seen on her before.

“Regulus-” she began, but then stopped, blinking rapidly. Was she _tearing up?_

“I’m afraid we have to offer our most sincere apologies,” the Headmaster said, then.

“For what? I don’t understand.”

Professor McGonagall looked over at Professor Slughorn, then back at Headmaster Dumbledore. With a nod from them both, she turned back to Regulus, her eyes clearly glistening wet.

“This past summer, Sirius had been sent on a surveillance mission. I’m afraid... things had gone... wrong. There’d been an ambush.”

In the end, Headmaster Dumbledore was the one who said it.

“I’m truly sad to say so, but your brother didn’t make it. You have our most sincere condolences.”

Regulus had blinked. And then blinked again. He looked over at Professor Slughorn (he'd never liked his brother, Regulus knew; the sad look on his face just made Regulus scoff whenever the memory flooded back to him), and then at Professor McGonagall (his brother's favourite teacher, the one who wrote him the recommendation letter that got him into Oxford. Regulus thought she might be the only one actually upset about the situation), and then finally back to Dumbledore (his face just as usual. Regulus never quite looked at him the same way after that).

“I-I don’t understand.”

“Mr. Black-”

“You’re wrong, Sirius wouldn’t-”

“You have to understand-”

“I don’t believe you!” Regulus hissed, his heart pounding in his chest, seemingly cracking his rib cage one bone by another, his hands already shaking. _“Sirius wouldn’t leave me.”_

“Regulus,” Professor McGonagall’s voice had never been as soft. Regulus had never hated to hear it as much as at that moment. “We wish we could tell you any different. But I’m afraid this is the truth. Sirius didn’t make it.”

For a moment, Regulus just breathed. That’s all he seemed to know how to do.

The world had been spinning and darkening around him. His heart was beating a steady drum, so loud no other noise was audible, all but a distant ringing, echoing inside his head. His vision had gone out of focus, and his body began to shiver violently.

Sirius had been by his side, _always._ Ever since the day Regulus was born, Sirius was there. When he learned how to walk, and talk, and read and be who he is, it was all because Sirius had been there. Not their parents, not even their Nanny, _Sirius_ was the one who did the most in shaping who Regulus came to be.

_“You’ll live with me when you’re done with school. The place Re and I have has enough space for three. You won’t have to go back to Mother and Father ever again.”_

He promised. He promised he’d help Regulus with exams, and work out through what Regulus wanted to do in the future cause he had no idea, but Sirius said he’d help, even if Regulus never said he wanted help, because he was never the one to _ask,_ but Sirius gave him all he needed without ever having to ask at all.

 _“And if you ever feel like they’re too much, or if they raise their hand at you, come to me, okay? If anything happens, you can. We don’t owe them anything,_ you _don’t owe them anything. You have an escape route if you need one.”_

And what was he going to do now? How was he going to do _anything_ if Sirius wasn't there? He promised he’d always be there for him, and clearly he lied and now Regulus was alone without anyone to tell him what to do.

_“I want to ask Rem to marry me. But not just yet. I know Mother and Father wouldn’t ever let you go if you knew it was my wedding you were coming to. So I’ll wait until you’re out of school. I want you there. You can come help me pick a ring, I'm not really that good at that kind of thing."_

He couldn't recall anyone walking him back to the dorm, nor Slughorn saying he was excused from classes til the end of the week. He crawled into his bed, still in his school robes, curling himself under the covers, charming the curtains so he could hear nothing outside his own bed because he couldn't stand people, not today, not _ever again._

He stared at the canopy of his bed, his mind racing, his heart pounding, a dull ache spreading through his head, his chest, across his whole body.

The four poster was awfully green.

Sirius always hated green.


	2. Chapter 2

When Regulus graduates, his mother throws a ball.

The party is just like any other family function; awfully dull, full of Death Eaters and filthy rich wizards. Generally unenjoyable. Regulus is itching to find a reason to excuse himself and close himself off in the library. Dealing with people is far from his favourite.

Before he can attempt to do so, a woman approaches him.

He has no idea who she is - a Pureblood, that’s certain (no other blood status is ever welcome inside Grimmauld). And she's not his family, judging by the locks of hair too bright to be a Black, and eyes too warm to be one either.

They exchange pleasantries, but right away, Regulus knows she’s there for a reason. You’re not approached at a party like this unless there’s business to be done.

“You’re not wed, are you?” she asks, out of the blue. Regulus already hates the direction this might head into.

“I’m not, and I’m not planning to be,” he replies, voice cold. Relationships seem too much of a bother to strike his fancy. His parents don't seem bothered, with him being such a _great_ son, and he will exploit that for as long as possible. If he could, he'd never marry at all.

“Shame. Your family could use an heir, I reckon. Your brother is queer, isn’t he? The disowned one?”

It's been three years. It still stings.

“We don’t speak of that,” he replies, his voice even more neutral, ice cold, telling her to _go away, stop talking about him, don’t insult him, don’t mention_ him. “I suppose you have a point you’re trying to make?”

She huffs, as if he’s offended her, but doesn’t leave.

“I want a child.”

*

The deal, overall, is simple. She needs his permission, and one vial (thank Merlin he doesn’t need to actually sleep with her. Even just the thought fills him with dread). As a result, he has an heir, a child to carry the family name should his parents ever bother him about that; and she gets to be a mother like she wishes to be. They don’t speak about it, don’t meet again. It’s simple business. He forgets about it quickly. He’s got more urgent matters on his mind.

The war, for one.

He knows he’s on the wrong side, and hates it more each and every day. He hasn’t taken the mark yet - he tells Mother he first needs to prove himself to the Dark Lord, before he can present himself and ask to be formally introduced into the ranks. Says he’s working on a project to impress, to showcase that their family is a good ally to have. All he hopes is to buy enough time. For what, he’s not sure. He has no escape route. All of his family is on the wrong side, and Regulus is the heir, he’d have no way of leaving without causing a mess. Most importantly, he’d have nowhere to hide.

He’s alone in the world, with nothing to do but to hope he can figure it out, just like he does with everything. He has no one to rely on other than himself; it’s been that way for years.

Just like for the most of his life, the library at Grimmauld is a refuge. Regulus spends hours and hours reading about the Dark Arts, Blood Magic, everything he might have overheard during meetings and events, hoping to find any information that might prove useful once he figures out how to leave without his family knowing. Dumbledore would have him, he assumes. If Regulus proves useful.

He collects information, does research, attends meetings, shakes hands, plays the heir. Does everything he’s told, everything he’s expected to do. He’s a perfect son. Everything his parents would want in a child. Sometimes, when he knows no one is inside the house, he sneaks into his brother’s old room. He’s not sure why; it never brings anything but pain, reopens wounds that had no chance to close just yet, even if it has been over four years. It’s only when he knows he won’t sleep at night.

In January, he gets an owl.

He’s in the middle of studies on Horcruxes - something so extremely Dark Regulus is almost sure _no one_ would attempt, but the cold shiver down his spine and memories of overheard conversations make him look those up anyway.

A snow white owl knocks on the window. Regulus recognises the band on its leg immediately - St Mungos, an urgent message. When he unravels the parchment, all it says is that Regulus is asked to the hospital at an earliest convenience, and that the matter is of utmost importance.

He’s not sure why; Mother and Father are at home, and Regulus doesn’t see why _he_ would be the one contacted if it's about any other family member.

He takes his wand, and the notebook with all his notes (he had taken to carrying it on his person at all times, finding it too important to just leave in his bedroom at Grimmauld), then notifies Mother and Father that he’s leaving for personal business - the beauty of being the good son is that they never ask, nor squint in suspicion. They trust him. With all they’ve taught him, Regulus thinks it’s awfully foolish of them.

He hasn’t been to Mungos more than once in his whole life - the Black family has a private healer that tends to them in the comfort of their own home whenever required. The only time he had been in hospital was to see Andromeda with her new little girl - his brother had taken him, without their parents’ knowledge. Regulus barely remembers it, anyway; he was a little under seven years old.

The hospital is empty, and not as big as Regulus remembers it - though, the lack of people could probably be excused by the early hour. Not a place for a morning rush, apparently.

The healer at the reception takes his name, and then calls someone from the back room, smiling at Regulus with a warm smile; he has a scar on his face, just a small one across his brow. It reminds Regulus of someone.

_“Is he your boyfriend then?”_

He wonders how Remus is doing. It had been years since he had seen him, last time being when Regulus was 11. At the time, Regulus considered him a friend; they bonded quickly at Hogwarts, and Remus always scribbled a few lines in letters from Regulus’s brother. He hadn’t even thought to try to write to him after what had happened. They’ve been so awfully close, so in love. It must have hit him badly.

Though, maybe having someone to grieve with would have made it easier. Even if just a little bit.

“Mr Black?”

Regulus turns to see a healer much older than the man in reception; her hair is graying, and her face shows clear signs of ageing; though, perhaps, that is just her expression. Right away Regulus can see she bares a frown on her face.

She gestures for him to follow, and so he does, into the convoluted mess of hallways and rooms.

“Might I ask why was I told to come?” he finds himself saying when the woman comes to a stop at the very end of one of the hallways.

“A young woman had been admitted here last night, pregnant, in labour. She’s told us you’re the father of the child.”

Ah, _right_. Regulus had entirely forgotten about that; the woman at the party, the vial, the potion. The deal.

_'Father of the child.'_

Though, if he remembers well - and he definitely does, he’s not one to forget details - she had wanted to raise the child alone. Had she thought he wanted to meet it? Regulus thought he made himself clear, he wanted nothing to do with it. It was nothing more than a simple favour.

“...yes,” Regulus eventually answers. “She and I aren’t… involved, however. The child is hers to raise, I don’t understand why I’m here.”

“I’m afraid there’s some unfortunate news for you, Mr Black. I’m sorry to say the mother passed away during labour. She had no family we could contact, so the baby falls into your care.”

Regulus blinks, his mind racing. He must’ve not understood that correctly. She definitely didn’t say what he thinks she said.

Before Regulus can even try to protest further, and truly, he _wants to,_ the healer opens the door to the room she’s led him to, and steps aside so he can enter.

The space is extremely small, with just a few items inside, mostly medical trinkets. There is, however, a small cot (or maybe it’s a bassinet, though Regulus isn’t sure that’s even the right term at all) right against the wall. In it, a bundle of blankets.

“It’s a healthy little boy, Mr Black. Congratulations!”

Regulus isn’t sure what to think. For a moment, he isn’t even sure he has the _ability_ to think. His heart is racing, but not of excitement or joy, but rather of anxiety, being in an unfamiliar territory, in a situation he’d never, _ever_ see himself in.

The healer doesn’t seem to pick up on his mental torment. She goes to carefully pick up the blankets, and, to Regulus’s utter horror, now it’s clear that inside of that is a small person, the smallest person he’s seen ever since Andromeda’s daughter, eleven or so years ago. It has a bush of thin black hairs, messy and sticking out in every possible direction, and its hands are small and curled into fists, face scrunched up and red, though Regulus can already see the pale complexion, so typical of a Black.

He can’t stop staring, for all the wrong reasons.

It’s his. _His._ Regulus, who had _just_ finished Hogwarts, _has a child_. He’s responsible for a human being, has to take care of it, feed it, do whatever one does with a child - he doesn’t even know _what._ It’s not something he’s ever encountered in a book, nothing he thought of learning or ever wanted to learn. Regulus, so meticulous in all his planning, so careful about things, _never_ thought he’d possibly find himself _with a child. A son._

Regulus is a father. _At 18 years old._

His brother must be laughing himself silly from wherever he is.

His anxieties only worsen when the woman steps close to him and places the cursed heap of yellow blankets (why _yellow,_ of all colours?) into his arms. He tries to protest, saying he’s not sure how to hold it, but the healer guides his arms, and the next thing he knows, he’s holding it. He’s holding a baby. The baby. _His baby._

It stirs in his arms, and Regulus holds his breath, looking down at it as if it’s about to tell him exactly what to do right now. Which obviously won’t happen, and Regulus is feeling as if his heart is just about to leap out of his own chest; even NEWTs didn’t feel as horrifying as this.

“If you don’t mind me asking, do you have a name picked?”

 _The last thing_ Regulus has been thinking about is naming the goddamn thing.

He scans the small face; the hair, the curled fists (they’re _so small_ , Regulus has no clue how is it even possible for such a small creature to exist), and his mind is blank. All that’s still going through his head is panic and a bunch of incoherent nonsense that Regulus cannot contain for the first time in his whole life.

And then the small-human-that-is-his-own-offspring opens its eyes.

Gray. Like his own. Like everybody's in his whole family.

Regulus swallows, and exhales loudly. He knows that’s _his_ baby he’s holding in his arms, but yet, when he looks down, what he sees isn’t making him think of himself, not of his hair nor eyes.

His gaze lifts to the healer, who looks at him with a fond expression (uncalled for, really, but Regulus isn’t about to admit he’s absolutely fucking clueless about all of this and also _18 years old_ ).

It’s a mistake he’s making, he’s aware. It’ll be painful. And yet Regulus feels it’s the only option.

“Sirius... his name will be Sirius Black.”

*

He doesn’t go back home. He can’t.

Mother and Father would ask questions, _so_ many uncomfortable questions that Regulus doesn’t want to think about, not now nor _ever._ He has so many things on his mind, so many things to figure out, so many of his own questions he desperately needs answers to. He writes them an owl, says there’s been a situation and that he’d be out of town for a few days. It’s a blunt lie, of course - he won’t be back at all. It’s not something they need to know just yet, though. He can’t handle Death Eaters on his back right now, not on top of the disaster currently happening in his life.

There’s a flat he knows of; old, abandoned, left over to him by Alphard. Regulus never had the need to use it before.

He Floos there, because apparently, babies aged 5 and below aren’t supposed to be Apparated, which he had no idea about until the healer mentioned it to him. Though, he doesn’t have _any_ idea about children, so that one is nothing new. He’s stepping out of the fireplace with a basket (baby bed? cot?), inside of which sits a miraculously quiet mini-human. And thank Merlin for that, because if it started crying, Regulus wouldn’t be sure what to do.

The little knowledge he has about children is enough to be sure that one so young can’t move by itself, therefore it should be okay not to watch it all the time. So Regulus, of course, places the basket in a random room and leaves it there, himself backing off into the lounge. With that, he’s free to freak out.

He honestly can’t remember when was the last time he was so ill prepared for something, or had been taken by surprise like this. Or, well… he can. But he’d rather not think about it, not right now. Nor ever.

His brother would know what to do. He’d be outraged at the stupidity of the situation, yes. Probably make fun of Regulus for not realising that this had been a very possible outcome to the stupid deal he’d taken. Yell, too, most likely. He’d always raise his voice when upset. But he’d help. Yes, he’d comment on it, he’d tease and sigh and complain, but _he would help._ There wasn’t another option. Somehow, he’d figure something out, a solution, a way to fix this goddamn mess.

Slouched on the dusty lounge floor, with no idea what to do, Regulus just wishes he could be a child again. To come back to the attic in Grimmauld. To have his brother teach him the stars.

Him and his brother, together. Before everything fell apart.

_“Okay, concentrate. Think of your happiest memory. Mother tripping down the stairs-”_

_“Sirius, you’re not helping.”_

_“I’m trying to give you an example!”_

_“This is stupid…”_

_“It’s not! You’re the smart brother, or so everyone says, you’ll get the hang of it. It’ll be handy to know, trust me. Dementors might not be so common, but Patronuses are hardly used for that anyway. It’s the safest communication method there is between wizards, especially in emergencies. You’ll be glad to know it. Now c’mon, try again. Bet you can’t beat me - I got mine on my tenth go. You’ve got eight left, Reg, better make ‘em count.”_

A silver lion bursts out from the tip of his wand, circling around the small space before standing in front of Regulus. His brother always laughed at that.

_“You’re a Gryffindor at heart! Always knew I have at least some good influence on you.”_

“Send this message to Remus Lupin,” Regulus says, before he ends up thinking a bit too hard on it. _Too much overthinking, not enough actual doing._ He takes a deep breath, and looks at the animal in front of him.

“I need help.”

*

Regulus is pacing around, trying to think of what the hell is he going to do.

There’s no guarantee Remus will receive his message, or if he decides to act on it. It’s been years since they last spoke, even more since they saw one another; hell, Regulus doesn’t even know if he’s alive. And what is he to Remus? He’s his past partner’s brother. They’re as good as strangers, unless Regulus is lucky. Which he doesn’t really think he is.

He has a few days at most to figure everything out. Where to go (he’d love to stay in London, but he can’t. Not when his entire family is in the city), what to do with himself, and with the kid. How to care for the kid.

That’s the part he’s most worried about. He can handle everything else, but children? He knows nothing. No one teaches a Black how to care for a child - every single one of them had been raised by a nanny. Families likes of his have no time to raise their own, and way more than enough money to have someone else do it for them.

The healer in the hospital told him some things, but definitely not enough. She gave him a few bottles of milk, and told him just what spell to use to heat it up correctly (he had no clue it even needs to be warmed up). A couple nappies, something that sits in its mouth to calm it down (a pacifier, he thinks that's called?), but other than that, and the basket and few blankets the infant came with, there’s nothing else.

Do newborns need toys? A proper bed? Is it coherent enough to care if it’s in a glorified picnic basket? Does it need clothes, or shoes?

“Merlin, I’m fucked,” Regulus groans to himself. Echo surrounds him in the empty apartment. The anxiety is still hammering in his chest, and his stomach feels uncomfortably tight. And it’s not even noon yet.

A crack of Apparition snaps him out. There’s noises, yelling, and footsteps. Someone running.

Any other day, Regulus would already have his wand out, ready to defend himself against whoever is clearly there for him. Not today, though. His brain runs slower today, clouded by worries, and shock, and grief. He stands in the middle of the hallway, simply staring at the front door.

There’s a knock on the door, before someone curses, and after that it’s promptly kicked open. And if Regulus thought things didn’t make sense before, they definitely don’t anymore.

In the doorway stands his brother. Who has been dead for five years now.

“Who are you?!” Regulus hisses out, now drawing out his wand, ignoring the way his hand visibly shakes. “How _fucking dare you?!”_

“Reg-”

_“Who are you?!”_

“It’s me!” Merlin, the man sounds _exactly_ like his brother, a voice Regulus had been dying to hear for so long, so many years.

Deep down, he knows better, though. It can’t be real. Whatever kind of sick joke or ruse this is, the person in front of him isn’t his brother. It’s a cruel trick to lower his guard; they’re there to kill him, Regulus guesses.

Next to the man, he sees Remus, seemingly just as confused, his wand also drawn.

“Regulus,” Remus says. “You asked for help-”

“And clearly that was a mistake. _Who. Is. That?!_ ”

“Merlin, Reg, why are you being so fucking difficult?!” his not-brother groans out, and Regulus cringes at all the memories flooding him. It’s all too familiar, especially for a day as fucking exhausting as today. “I know it’s been a while but you couldn’t have just forgotten I exist! It’s me, Sirius!”

“My brother,” Regulus hisses out slowly, his gaze fixed on the man, not daring to even blink. “-died five years ago. So whatever you’re trying to do isn’t working. _Who the fuck are you?!”_

Remus steps forward, lowering his wand. “Died? Who told you Sirius died?”

“Dumbledore,” Regulus replies, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the world. “Don’t act like you don’t know! He stopped writing, stopped talking to me, and the Headmaster said-”

“Well he’s a fucking liar!” Not-Sirius yells. “Listen to me. We went into some dangerous work, all of us. Me, Moony, James, Lily, and Pete. They told me not to contact you anymore, since our family is on the wrong side and you might get in trouble, but I said so in a letter, _I sent you one last letter_ , in September! I don’t fucking know what Dumbledore was thinking, the fucking prick, but I was lying low, nothing happened to me. He lied to you, Reggie.”

Regulus inhales sharply; his eyes are starting to burn, and he can feel stupid hope welling inside of his heart. He swallows, desperate not to loose focus, not to listen because this _can’t_ be real, he can’t let himself be tricked like this.

“How do I know? How do I really know you’re him?”

Sirius lowers his wand, and takes a step; doesn’t flinch when Regulus raises his wand further, aiming right at his head.

“You have a birthmark on the sole of your left foot. I say it’s shaped like a frog, but you always said it’s more of a crown. When we were little I’d always tickle you there, just cause I thought it makes you laugh harder. You hate cranberries, so you’d pick them out of your cake during dinner and put them on my plate, and I’d eat them even if I also hate them, cause Mother would be upset if someone left them, and I didn't want her to yell at you. If she did yell, and she did that a lot, well... at me, mostly, I'd always says she's basically a Banshee, maybe with a few cosmetic spells and way too much makeup on. And sometimes, at night, especially when you were little, we’d go up to the attic, and I’d teach you about the stars. You never could place Bellatrix quite right. I always thought it was awfully funny.”

There’s ringing in his ears; almost like a high pitched screech. The surroundings blur, out of focus, seemingly nonexistent anymore. His body doesn’t feel like he’s in it.

He pays no attention, though. Not to his body, not himself, not anything. His wand drops to the floor as he runs into his brother’s arms.

 _“Sirius,”_ he says, and it’s been _so long,_ so unbelievably long since he’d even seen Sirius, thought of him in a setting other than one that gave him a dull ache cursing as deep as the marrow of his bones. So long since he was held, comforted, since he’s heard his voice.

“You’re okay,” he hears, in that soothing tone that used to bring him out of nightmares, soothe him after a hurting fall from a broom, or wiping his tears after having been scolded. _It’s Sirius._ “I’ve got you. I’m sorry it’s been so long, Reggie. But you’re okay now.”

He hasn’t cried in his brother’s arms since he was six years old. At 18, it feels just as right, if not more.

*****

They’ve been in Ireland, Sirius explained. Looking for intel, taking down small groups of Death Eaters. In complete hiding, with no permission to contact anyone.

“He probably thought it’s risky to let you know the truth, fucking prick,” Sirius laughs, sitting against the wall, with Regulus’s head rested on his shoulder. Neither of them care about the physical comfort they’d usually shy away from, all the _‘we’re not little kids anymore’_ long forgotten and gone. “Hid my letter and told you a believable lie. Can’t let it slip to our Death Eater family if you think I’m dead.”

“He doesn’t trust me,” Regulus concludes shortly.

“ _We_ don’t trust _him,_ ” Sirius scoffs. “Not anymore.”

Regulus nods, absentmindedly.

A part of him doesn’t believe this, still. It’s been close to five years since he’d been told Sirius died, and those were undoubtedly the worst years of his life. This truly seems too good to be true. It might be a trap, or a dream. Things like that never happen in real life, after all.

A sharp cry breaks the silence in the room; Sirius and Remus immediately get to their feet.

“What’s that?” Sirius asks, his gaze on Regulus.

“ _Fuck,_ I forgot. That’s why I asked for help.”

He stands up, and leads the two to the other room. The crying bounces off the walls, echoing in the empty space; no one makes a move.

“Please don’t tell me this is what I think it is,” Sirius says, his voice weak.

“I can explain.”

_“You fucking better.”_

*****

“This is _the most_ stupid thing I have _ever_ heard. And I hear myself think, all the time! What the fuck, Reg?!”

Sirius and Regulus are in the lounge, standing a few feet apart, Sirius pacing along the length of the room. Remus is calming the baby down, having taken it into his arms (Regulus found himself wincing extremely - the thing looks unbelievably fragile, and Regulus isn't a fan of even thinking of holding it) and slowly walking around the whole flat. Regulus isn’t sure if that’s how parents actually do it, but the crying died down a couple minutes ago - as long as it works, he’ll take it.

“I didn’t think this would happen!”

“Obviously! If you did, I expect you wouldn’t have agreed! But guess what - if you agree to _father a goddamn child,_ there’s always, _always_ a possibility you’ll have to take care of it! Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?! You think things through, I do stupid shit, not the other way around!”

“Well guess what - I made a stupid mistake, okay?! Is this what you’d like to hear? I admit, I fucked up, I shouldn’t have agreed! But I did, and now I have this thing to take care of, and if I go back home Mother and Father are going to-... they won’t be happy.”

“But why?” Remus speaks for the first time in the past hour. “You’re the heir, wouldn’t your parents want you to have a child?”

“Not out of wedlock,” Sirius explains. _“Especially_ not if we don’t know the mother. She could’ve been a Muggle for all they know. They wouldn’t risk it, the kid would be dead.”

“They wouldn’t-”

“Oh, they would,” Regulus says with a sigh. “They can’t get rid of me, cause I’m the only heir they’ve left. So they'd get rid of _it._ Or find me a woman who’d be willing to marry and pretend it’s hers.”

“Reckon you don’t wanna go back?”

Regulus scoffs. “Of course not. If it weren’t for you _‘dying’,_ I would’ve left the second I was out of Hogwarts. I never had anywhere to go, so I didn’t.”

“Merlin, fuck Dumbledore,” Sirius says under his nose in anger. “Okay. You’re coming with us, then.”

“What?”

“We have a place. Middle of fucking nowhere in the south of Ireland, but it’ll do for now. Mother and Father can’t know where you are, so we’ll get a Secret Keeper-”

“Wait, what? That’s dangerous!”

“Better than you and the kid dying!”

“But-”

“Reggie.” Sirius walks up to him, placing his hands on Regulus’s shoulders. “I haven’t seen your pretentious fucking face in _five years_ , and I suddenly find that I’m an uncle, apparently. You’re coming with us, we’re arranging a hideout, and we’re taking care of Little Black over there. You’re barely of age, don’t even try to tell me you’d know how to figure a kid out by yourself. The three of us are doing it, so stop being stubborn for just a second, and let me handle it. I’m older, means you listen to me.”

Regulus nods, his eyes falling to the floor.

“Should’ve known better than to get myself into this mess.”

“‘t’s okay. It’s just my bad influence on you finally showing.” Sirius grins, and Regulus finds the corners of his mouth lifting a bit.

Merlin, how he missed Sirius.

“Uhm… I don’t mean to break the brotherly moment, but we need to move quick,” Remus says, from the other side of the room, constantly bouncing the blanket-bundle in his arms. “I don’t think he’ll be quiet for much longer.”

“Right,” Sirius nods, looking around. “You got any stuff you wanna take with you?”

Regulus shakes his head. “I’ve got my wand and my journal, I’m good.”

“And for the kid?”

“I, uh… just got it today. Didn’t really buy anything yet.”

“Kay, we’ll figure that out when we’re there, then. You Apparate with me, and Remus-”

“I, uh,” Remus looks at the blankets, his face scrunching up. “I don’t think babies can be Apparated. Not for the first five or so years, anyway. I think.”

Sirius and Regulus both blink at him.

“I have younger cousins,” Remus explains with a shrug. He walks towards the fireplace instead. “Is it connected to the Floo?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect, then. Let’s go before he starts getting grumpy.”

*

The house _is_ in the middle of nowhere; and in all honesty, it couldn’t have been more out of Regulus’s comfort zone.

It’s a rather large wooden cabin - very cosy indeed, but surrounded by woods and greenery, with no other people in sight. Regulus is used to the life of a big town, to noise, people, a certain level of comfort in his life. This house doesn’t look as if it has maids, or rich furniture, or several floors of rooms.

Though, Regulus guesses he ought to get used to this. He’s leaving his old life behind, after all.

The lounge is small, and overflowing with various items - there’s books, teacups, stacks of parchment, various trinkets and photographs; nothing like Regulus would have witnessed at Grimmauld, where all is cold and empty and deprived of life. This room itself had more personality than everything in his old home.

Remus and Sirius talk in hushed voices by the fireplace; about what, Regulus doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want to pry. He’s in their home, after all.

At some point, when Regulus is examining the photographs on the wall (Sirius and all his school friends, Sirius and Remus, and one of Regulus and Sirius as children, even), Remus passes the baby to Sirius, and leaves outside.

Just as Regulus is about to ask, Sirius talks.

“He’s heading to pick up some baby stuff. Reckon he’s the most experienced of the three of us.”

He walks to one of the chairs, and - after throwing all the pillows onto the floor, places the baby onto it, carefully.

“That’s… probably fine. Right?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Yeah, you’re clearly _so_ prepared to be a dad.”

Regulus cringes. “Ugh, don’t say that.”

“You think _you_ feel weird?” Sirius laughs, coming closer to him and ruffling his hair. _Just like when they were kids._ “Think about _me._ My little, itsy-bitsy baby brother, the small, snotty kid I grew up with, has _a baby._ I’m an uncle! And I’m not even 25 yet.”

Regulus rolls his eyes; Sirius and his dramatics.

His eyes drift towards the bundle of yellow blankets on the chair, and he sighs.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he ends up saying. “I’m way too young for this bullshit, Sirius. I don’t know how kids work, how am I supposed to do this? I’ll end up worse than Mother and Father.”

“Hey, don’t say that. Trust me, no one could do worse than our parents. You’re worrying about being clueless, so that’s already a good sign. Shows you care, or something. And you’re not alone in this, me and Moons will help out. And James and Lily will, too. We’re our own little family now. A little weird, a little unconventional, but a family.”

Sirius walks up to the armchair again, and squats in front of it, smiling. His fingers gently touch the baby’s head, barely ghosting above the small, black hairs.

“Speaking of,” he says again; much more soft this time. “Got a name for him? Reckon we should stop calling him ‘the kid’.”

Regulus blinks, drawing a breath. He feels his face grow hot, his eyes leaving his brother. Fuck, he completely forgot.

“What? Don’t tell me you chose something stupid. If you named this poor innocent baby after our father-”

“No, that’s not it,” Regulus mumbles, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “He’s uh… his name is Sirius,” he says, barely out loud.

He can _feel_ the shift in atmosphere. Sirius is never going to let him forget this.

“Say that again?”

“You heard.”

“No, no, I don’t think I did,” Regulus can already hear the amused tone in Sirius’s voice. He bites the inside of his cheek, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. “This is too good, I didn’t just hear that.”

“Shut up-”

“I can’t fucking believe,” Sirius starts laughing. “Oh Merlin, you didn’t-”

“I thought you were dead, you prick!”

“Holy shit, this is the best! James is _not_ going to believe this-”

“I hate you,” Regulus hisses out. Sirius just snorts in amusement. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sirius scooting closer to the armchair again.

“So,” he says, his eyes fixed on Regulus with that stupid, smartass smile on his face. “Little baby Sirius. Got a pretty awesome name, huh, kid? Everyone I’ve met that had that name turned out really awesome, so luck is on your side. And you’ve got an cool uncle too, he’ll teach you all there is to know.”

Regulus rolls his eyes; though, deep down, it’s a good sight to see. He has Sirius back. And then… he also has another Sirius.

The names will definitely be a source of confusion very soon, but they’ll figure something out. One thing at a time, they will.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah this is basically me being a shameless whore for Sirius and Reg being brothers, welcome.
> 
> And I've written this as a sort of prologue/introduction because, if people like this mess (lol), I hope to turn this into a series about the brothers' new family! Hope you liked it! (and maybe leave a comment if you do cause that good validation juice)
> 
> I'm also on tumblr @casualmaraudering!


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